


Dragonfire and Ruin

by Finduilas88



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BotFA Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas88/pseuds/Finduilas88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fili and the other dwarves who remained in Laketown arrive in Erebor after Smaug's death, they are shocked to find Thorin firmly in the grip of gold sickness. Horrified by Thorin's behavior, Fili faces the most difficult decision of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Fili-focused story, no longer a one-shot! This is set mostly in the movie universe, but things will turn out a little differently because, well, I love Fili and think he deserves more screen (and fic) time! Not to mention that there are many aspects of the BotFA that need changing, IMO!

The Company’s small fire did little to dispel the gloomy chill of ruined Erebor. Fíli sat, arms wrapped defensively around his knees as he searched the somber faces around him for some spark of hope or encouragement in their current dilemma. He found none; even the always cheerful Bofur could only muster a wan smile. When he caught Kíli’s eyes his brother grinned and nudged him from his place at his side, and for a moment his heart lifted at the familiar sight.

But such joy could not last, and the young prince knew that the group’s disquiet had more to do with the atmosphere inside Erebor than the armies camped outside. Almost against his will the blond’s eyes were drawn to the final member of their company, Thorin Oakenshield, the uncrowned King Under the Mountain now that Smaug was dead. Fíli’s uncle had finally been persuaded to pause in his frantic search for the Arkenstone to take some food and rest. The prince’s heart clenched as he watched the dark-haired dwarf, his eyes wild, mind still in the thrall of the mounds of gold and gems that filled the lower halls of the mountain.

His head in his hands, Fíli could only think of how very different the reunion of he and the other dwarves returning from Laketown was than he had anticipated before their arrival that morning.

_“There will be no negotiation, no payment to this… **Bard** as long as an army lies outside our gates,” Thorin spat when Fíli broached the subject of aiding the survivors of Esgaroth. “The Lakemen have chosen to throw their in their lot with **elves** , and that is the consequence.”_

_“But…” Fíli sputtered in astonishment and dismay, “their town was razed by Smaug and many of their people lie dead in the ruins! Bard took us in when Kíli was near to death—surely that counts for something!” It had been hard—so hard—for Fíli to consider forgiving Thorin for leaving his brother behind. But finally at Kíli’s urging he had accepted that their uncle would not have done so if he had known how serious the younger prince’s injury had been. Fíli had expected Thorin to be contrite—relieved— **grateful** that his brother survived, but instead…_

_“Bard will be rewarded with gold, since that’s apparently all that matters to him,” Thorin said dismissively. “But not one gold piece will leave this mountain while they and those foul elves are stand before our gate.”_

_Fíli clenched his fists in frustration, burning to point out the maddening irony of his uncle claiming that gold was **Bard’s** sole interest. “Thorin…” the blond ground out._

_The dark-haired dwarf turned on him, eyes blazing. “Enough!” he growled, slashing the air with an open hand. “My decision is made and I will hear no more of it!” With that, he spun on his heel and stalked out of room down the corridor toward the treasure vault._

_The prince started after him, not willing to concede the argument so easily, but a hand caught his arm._

_“Let him go, lad; arguing won’t change his mind, it’ll just make him angrier and more determined,” Balin told him quietly._

_“But…but…this is **madness** , Balin!” Fíli exclaimed. “We need to help them! **We** awakened the dragon that destroyed their town and killed their people! There’s…there’s enough bloody gold here to rebuild Laketown a thousand times over! Why is Thorin refusing to even talk to them? We—we have to speak to him again,” the blond said determinedly, his face set. “Convince him somehow; explain how much they need our help—”_

_The old dwarf sighed, “We’ve tried, lad. We’ve all tried arguing, explaining, pleading… But Thorin’s mind is set on this. We hoped that you and your brother might be able to reach him, but now I fear that he’s too far gone in the gold sickness.”_

_Fíli paled, he had heard whispers of his Great-grandfather Thrór’s unhealthy obsession with Erebor’s treasure, but he never expected his uncle to be ensnared by it as well. “No,” he whispered. “It cannot be!”_

_The pained expression on Balin’s face was all the answer he needed. “But… what can we do? What **should** we do? Granting them the gold is not only right and honorable given how they have suffered, but we have no other choice. There are only fourteen of us here against thousands, and they can simply starve us out if they wish!”_

_“Dáin is coming,” Balin told him with a brisk nod. “So we need only hold out until he arrives with his warriors. Perhaps he can talk some sense into Thorin.”_

_The young dwarf groaned, “But what if he cannot? Why should he listen to Dáin if he won’t heed his closest friends and kin? It seems just as likely it will give Thorin reason to believe we can fight our way out!”_

_Balin had no answer to this, tacitly admitting that Fíli might be correct. He clasped the blond’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, lad, we may just have to wait and hope for the best.”_

_Fíli watched him with a sinking heart as he left to join the others. His eyes stung with tears of anger and bewilderment. How in Mahal’s name had it come to this?_

A soft cough brought the prince out of his reverie; it was only their burglar returning from the watchpost. The hobbit volunteered for more than his share of watch duty, preferring the open sky, however chilly, to the oppressive gloom of Erebor. Their eyes met; Bilbo smiled and crossed the room to lay a comforting hand on Fíli’s shoulder. “Welcome back, my boy, we all missed you and worried for your safety.”

Seeing the hobbit’s cheerful face heartened him—with Bilbo’s help they had escaped any number of sticky situations. Fíli let out a long breath to ease his tension; he had spent the day worrying over the problem of Thorin’s intransigence, even devising a tentative, desperate plan to address it. All he had lacked was the will and the courage to follow it through. But perhaps Balin was correct that it would turn out all right without any action on his part.

Bilbo turned to share a joke with Kíli and his honey-gold curls caught the firelight. The young heir gasped softly, a memory from Laketown unexpectedly assaulting his senses. He and the other dwarves had assisted the rescue efforts before leaving for Erebor, and although Bard and his children had all survived the devastation, but there was a young girl—a friend of the bargeman’s daughter Tilda—whose hair was just like Bilbo’s. Fíli recalled unearthing her body, curiously untouched by the dragon fire, but crushed by falling debris. The men of Esgaroth had borne the brunt of the dragon’s fury, and it was an _elf_ , he reminded himself firmly, that had saved his brother’s life.

He bit his lip to keep the tears from coming and took a deep, shuddering breath to compose himself. Resolved, he stood; his movements made jerky by the enormity of what he was about to do.

All too soon he had crossed the room and was looking down and his uncle with what he hoped was a conciliatory expression on his face. He cleared his throat, “Uncle, I…I meant to tell you of this earlier, but I found something that you might be interested in seeing. It might aid you in your search.”

Thorin gazed at his nephew narrowly. “Well?” he snapped. “What is it?”

“It’s a book…a listing of items held in vaults other than the main one.” The blond shrugged as casually as he could, “I thought it might help.”

“Hmm,” Thorin said thoughtfully. “It is most likely that the Arkenstone is in the main treasure room, but there is no harm in looking, I suppose. There may be items of great value in the other vaults as well. Where is this book?”

“I left it where I found it; it was quite large and looked very fragile with age. I can show you where it is if you wish, Thorin.”

The dark-haired dwarf stood, “Then do so.” For the first time since they had returned from Laketown his eyes held some of their old warmth, and his uncle clapped him on the shoulder. “It is good to see you taking an interest in _proper_ concerns once again, nephew. Much more fitting for my heir.”

Fíli felt like he had been punched in the gut at this praise, but did his best not to let it show on his face. The young dwarf led Thorin to small side room not far from the Company’s campsite that he had discovered earlier. He ushered Thorin inside and gestured to a large book sitting on a stand at the back of the room. “There,” the blond explained. “My apologies, Uncle, I had nothing to mark the page. The entry listing the other vault rooms is toward the end.”

He remained near the door while the older dwarf impatiently approached the reading stand. As soon as Thorin was engrossed in examining the book Fíli slipped out, softly closed the door behind him and turned the lock.

The rest of the Company learned what had occurred when Thorin’s shouts of rage began echoing through the empty halls. They arrived at a run to find Fíli sitting on the floor outside the room with his head in his hands, while the heavy door shook with the fury of the king’s relentless pounding.

Dwalin was one of the first to arrive and he stared uncomprehendingly at the scene before him for a moment before speaking. “Mahal’s guts, Fíli, what is going on here? Did…did _you_ do this?”

Fíli stood, his calm demeanor belied by the quaver in his voice, “Yes. I did what had to be done.”

“Are you mad?” the bald dwarf growled. “Release him immediately!” He stepped forward to confront the prince but was stayed by a hand on his arm.

“Wait, brother,” Balin said quietly. “Let him explain.”

The blond met Dwalin’s eyes, “We must negotiate with Bard and the others, and we must do it _now_ , before Dáin arrives. Then Laketown can be rebuilt there will be no further bloodshed. That is clear to _all_ of us, as is the fact that Thorin is not in his right mind at the moment.” He glanced at Balin, his face bleak, “I…I understand why none of you could make this decision, but I can, and I must.”

“You’re just going to leave Thorin locked up like a common thief?” Dwalin demanded.

“It needn’t be long—just until the gold is delivered. Once the men and elves have agreed to leave, he can be released.”

Balin snorted, “It could be that some time away from the treasure hoard could clear Thorin’s mind. ‘Twould be no bad thing.”

“Whether that happens or not, we’ll all have to face his judgment if we do this. It’ll fall hardest on you, Fíli. He’s unlikely to forgive you for this, even if his senses return.” Dwalin’s statement was accompanied by the strident cries audible through the locked door; accusations of betrayal and worse.

“Are you ready for that, lad?” Dwalin shook his head, “We can prevent him from doing you harm, but if he chooses to disown you— _exile_ you and put Kíli in your place…”

The younger heir stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother and snorted, “ _That’s_ not happening. If Fíli goes, I go too.”

Fíli shot his brother a grateful look, and gave a firm nod. “I’m ready.” He cast his eyes over the company, “But if any of you oppose this course of action, say so now.” The assembled dwarves glanced at each other; Glóin looked as if might speak but he fell silent under Óin’s pointed glare.

Bofur grinned, “We’re with you, lad.” Others nodded in agreement and Fíli let out a long breath in relief.

“Right, let’s get started.” Fíli caught the hobbit’s eyes, “Bilbo, could you please go down and explain that we’ll be sending out a small party to begin negotiations? I don’t want anyone to mistake our intentions.”

Bilbo’s eyes shone with relief and excitement, “I would be _delighted_ , Fíli.”

A short while later the dwarves had decided their negotiation strategy and Bilbo had returned from delivering his message with the good news that the Bard and Thranduil were waiting.

Fíli took a deep breath to steady his nerves and squared his shoulders as he led a small group to the gate. Now, for a least a fleeting moment in time, he must become the prince he was born to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili struggles with his new responsibilities and negotiations with Thranduil prove difficult. Gandalf arrives with grim news.

Fíli let out a deep sigh and rested against the stone pillar at his back. His eyes fell closed and he sighed again, trying to clear his head. The negotiations with Bard and Thranduil had gone as well as could be expected. It had been easy enough to agree with Bard on the amount of gold needed for the rebuilding of Esgaroth; the bargeman clearly had no idea that the quantity requested would never be missed from the vast horde. Balin was already gathering double the asked-for amount at Fíli’s behest and readying it for delivery.

In theory, Thranduil’s demands were even simpler; he merely requested the cask of white gems that were the center of his long ago dispute with King Thrór. All they had to do was deliver the jewels and the elves would be on their way back to Mirkwood. But the young prince had no idea when he agreed to deliver the gems that they would be so bloody difficult to find! They had been searching for nearly a day and thus far there was no trace of them. Weary and frustrated, Fíli slid down the pillar until he was seated on the chilly floor with his head resting on his bent knees.

Familiar footsteps approached and the blond smiled to himself despite his woes, his heart eased by the presence of his brother. A booted toe nudged his foot, “Are you well, _nadad_?” Kíli asked solicitously.

Fíli looked up and smiled at the brunet, “I’m fine, Kíli; just tired and taking a break from looking for those damn jewels.”

Kíli slid to the floor next to him and leaned into his shoulder affectionately, “Why’s he so determined to have them, anyway? There’s _tons_ of junk down there he could have instead.”

His brother blew out a long breath, “I wish I knew, Kee. They’re obviously important to him, and I know there was some dispute over them between Thranduil and Thrór, but I don’t know what it was about. Balin doesn’t know either, and I’m not about to ask Thorin.”

“We could offer him something else,” Kíli suggested, “just until we find the jewels.”

Fíli scrubbed a hand over his face, “I’ve thought of that, but as you’ve probably noticed, trust is in pretty short supply between the dwarves of Erebor and King Thranduil at the moment. I’m afraid he’ll think it’s just a ploy to keep them for ourselves.” He snorted derisively, “Like I care about his damn necklace! I’m as fond of jewels as much as the next dwarf, but there are thousands down there to pick from if I wanted!”

Kíli’s eyes crinkled in amusement, “But they’d look so fetching on you, brother!”

The blond heir shoved his brother and glared, but couldn’t keep the laughter from his eyes. They giggled together for a moment before sobering.

“I guess just having him wait until we find it is out of the question…” the brunet sighed.

“I wish we could, _nadadith_ ,” Fíli replied ruefully, “but there are two very good reasons why we need to get the elves on their way as quickly as possible.”

His brother nodded, his face grim, “Thorin.” In the hours since Fíli had imprisoned him, their uncle had calmed…somewhat. He was no longer screaming obscenities and pounding on the door, and had allowed the other dwarves to tend to his needs without attacking anyone who entered the room. But to say he was not reconciled to his captivity was a vast understatement. Both heirs knew that Dwalin was allowing Thorin to stay imprisoned only with the greatest reluctance, and if they did not release their uncle soon the big dwarf would take matters into his own hands.

“Dáin as well,” the blond added gloomily. “I can’t see him being happy about my locking Thorin up or the fact that we’re negotiating with Thranduil. This _has_ to be resolved before they arrive.”

At that moment their soft-footed hobbit burglar approached them with a smile, saying, “There you are, lads! Bombur asked me to tell you supper will be ready soon if you’d like to join the Company for a meal.” Seeing their somber faces, he amended, “Unless I’m interrupting something important.”

Fíli shrugged and smiled thinly in return, “Nothing new, Bilbo. We haven’t found Thranduil’s jewels yet so the odds of us persuading him to leave anytime soon are slim at best.”

Kíli stood and offered a hand to his brother, pulling him to his feet, “There must be _something_ we can give Thranduil that he would be willing to take in place of the jewels, even temporarily.”

“It also has to be something that Thorin values and would be willing to exchange,” Fíli added, “since I doubt he’ll be eager to cooperate with the elves once he’s released.”

Bilbo cleared his throat diffidently, catching the attention of both dwarves, “Fíli, Kíli, there is…something I should show you. Come with me.”

The brothers exchanged a glance, equally mystified by the hobbit’s announcement. They followed him, not toward the Company campsite as expected, but down a dusty, rubble-strewn side corridor nearby.

Bilbo reached into a dark corner behind some decorative stonework and brought out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle.

“I…I’ve been meaning to give this to you for some time,” he said, nervously rocking back on his heels. “I…er…um… Here, take it!” he said abruptly, pushing it into Fíli’s hands.

The object was hard and heavy, and the blond almost fainted in shock when he pulled aside the cloth to reveal what was inside. It was a clear, faceted jewel the size of his fist that glowed with a light from within—although neither dwarf had seen it before there was absolutely no question what it was.

“ _Mahal_ ,” Kíli breathed reverently, “the Arkenstone.”

Fíli stared at the stone, uncertain whether he felt more astonished or angry. “You…you’ve had this in your possession _all along_? You let Thorin search for it in vain? _Why_ , Bilbo?”

“I…I’m so sorry, Fíli,” Bilbo muttered, twisting his fingers together anxiously. “I found it when I spoke to Smaug. I had planned to give it to Thorin immediately, but first we were chased by the dragon, and then when we were safe again your uncle began acting so _peculiarly_ … The more he looked for it and became fixed on finding it, the more concerned I became about what he might do should I give it to him. But—if you have a use for it, you should take it,” the hobbit concluded with a firm nod of his head.

“Fíli,” Kíli warned, “I know what you’re thinking, but Thorin will never forgive us if we give the stone to Thranduil. He may declare war on the elves just to get it back!”

“He was ready to do that anyway,” Fíli replied, his voice bleak. “At least with this we have a chance to persuade Thranduil to leave without the jewels he wants so much.” He met Kíli’s eyes, “Besides, Bilbo’s right, there is something uncanny about Uncle’s obsession with finding the Arkenstone. I fear what effect it might have if we give it to him.”

“If you’re sure…” Kíli said hesitantly.

Fíli chuckled mirthlessly, “ _Nadadith_ , at this moment I am certain of nothing.” He rewrapped the stone and carefully returned it to its hiding place. “We’ll hold it in reserve. Perhaps we’ll find the elf king’s gems and we won’t have to use it at all.” He smiled encouragingly at his brother, “Let’s go get something to eat.”

-ooo-

After a long night of searching for Thranduil’s jewels in vain, a raven arrived at dawn with the news that Dáin and his men should reach the mountain by sunset.

They had run out of time.

-ooo-

“Balin, could you oversee the delivery of Bard’s gold?” Fíli asked the old dwarf as they watched the casks of gold being lowered from the front gate to the men waiting below.

“Why, certainly Fíli. You don’t wish to attend yourself?”

“I need to speak to Thranduil again,” the blond told him, frowning pensively.

“I was not aware that there was anything to discuss, Fíli,” Balin replied, “since we have not been able to find the jewels he desires.”

“I want to see if there is anything he might take in their stead—at least until we can find them.” At Balin’s skeptical look, Fíli shrugged his shoulders, “Nothing is lost in asking.”

“Indeed not. Do you wish me to accompany you?”

The blond prince shook his head, “No, I’ll take Kíli with me. It’s best to get both tasks done quickly so we can release Thorin all the sooner.”

Balin nodded, his face brightening, “Aye, that would be welcome.” He raised one bushy eyebrow, “And what would you have me say to Bard if he asks why we are giving him more gold than we agreed upon?”

“Tell him that we are grateful for the shelter and care we received in Laketown when Kíli was injured.” He smiled at the old dwarf wryly, “It also happens to be the truth.”

A short time later Fíli and Kíli were shown into the elvenking’s tent, and found Thranduil sitting at his ease, watching them impassively. “You wished to speak to me, young one? Does this mean you have the gems that King Thrór stole from me?”

Fíli shook his head, determinedly ignoring the elf’s tone, “I am sorry to say we have not, my lord, though not for lack of searching. I am here to ask you to consider accepting something else in their stead, as a token of good faith until we are able to locate them.”

“And what is this ‘something else’, _gold_? Thranduil snorted derisively, “I believe I have a much clearer idea than the bowman precisely how much gold lies within the halls of Erebor. You could give me gold enough to fill this tent a hundred times over and it would scarcely make a dent in the dragon’s horde.” He met Fíli’s eyes, “No, that will not do.” The tall elf glanced away haughtily, “I doubt there is anything in Erebor that would be sufficient.”

Fíli exchanged a glance with Kíli; his brother looked unhappy, but resigned, and nodded in answer to the unspoken question. The blond dwarf took a deep breath to steel his resolve, pulled the Arkenstone from his pocket and showed it to the elf king. “Will _this_ be sufficient, my lord king?”

After Thranduil’s cool indifference, it was certainly gratifying to see his eyes widen in shock, “You would offer me _this_? The Arkenstone?”

“Only as a pledge of good faith,” Fíli answered gravely. “If you accept it, I would require your oath that it will be redeemed when the gems you are seeking are returned to you, or when another agreed-upon condition is met.”

The elf king gazed at him appraisingly, “I strongly suspect that Oakenshield will not approve of this…arrangement.”

“That is my concern, not yours.” The dwarf prince shrugged, “Besides, it will undoubtedly strengthen your position in any future negotiations with King Thorin.”

Thranduil chuckled, “That it will.” He leaned forward in his chair, eyeing Fíli with renewed interest, “You surprise me, young prince. A bold move, and one I did not expect. I hope you do not come to regret it.”

Fíli’s chest tightened painfully, and he felt Kíli’s hand creep into his own; silent support that he accepted gratefully.

“Very well, then, Fíli, son of Dis, I accept your conditions,” Thranduil continued. “On my oath I will hold the Arkenstone in trust only until my gems are restored to me or we agree upon some other condition for its return.” He gestured to Legolas, who was standing nearby quietly watching the discussion. “Are my son and your brother adequate witnesses to our agreement?”

Fíli stepped forward with the stone in his hand, “Yes. Please know that I do this in the spirit of hope that the relationship between our peoples can improve.” He dropped the stone into the elf king’s hand, all the while praying to the Maker that he was not making a terrible mistake.

Their business concluded, the two dwarves were about to make their farewells when an elf entered the tent and spoke urgently in the king’s ear. Thranduil’s eyes flicked up to the princes for a moment before he said to the messenger, “Bring him in.”

He addressed the dwarves, “You will want to stay for this, I think.”

The dwarf brothers had just exchanged a curious glance when familiar voice struck their ears.

“I am surprised—pleasantly so—” Gandalf rumbled as he ducked into the tent, “that you have sensibly decided to put aside your differences…”

He stopped abruptly, gazing at Fíli and Kíli in astonishment. “Fíli? Kíli? What are you…” The wizard shook his head, “When I was told dwarves were speaking to the King, I assumed it would be Thorin.” His eyes widened, “Is Thorin…”

“Uncle is alive, Gandalf, just…indisposed,” Fíli replied reluctantly. “I… _we_ are representing him.”

Gandalf looked at him keenly, “Indeed? We must speak more of this ‘indisposition’ later. But now there is something more important to discuss—the legions of orcs that will arrive in a few hours.”

They all stared at the wizard in shocked silence for a moment before Thranduil snapped, “Explain! How many are there in truth, and what do they want?”

“Many thousands, my lord—all of Mount Gundabad has been emptied. Orcs, of course, but wargs and trolls as well and who knows what other sorts of vile creatures might accompany them.

“Make no mistake, this is an attack long in the making; they mean to take the Lonely Mountain and its riches. You all must work together if you have any hope of preventing it.”

Thranduil motioned to Legolas, “Find Bard and ask him to join us immediately.”

Legolas nodded, but before he could leave Fíli added, “Balin should be with Bard, could you ask him to join us as well?” The elf prince glanced at his father, who waved agreement, and Legolas hurried away.

“I understand why you would want Balin’s council,” Thranduil murmured, “but thirteen dwarves and a halfing are hardly likely to turn the battle in our favor.”

Fíli’s eyes flashed, “You underestimate us, my lord King. Besides, Lord Dáin of the Iron Hills and five hundred of his warriors are already on their way and will be here by sunset.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, well aware of the reason they would have been summoned in the first place.

But Gandalf made a pleased noise, “The orcs will arrive first, but still, that’s welcome news. Five hundred dwarves is a force to be reckoned with! Can you alert them to the change in circumstances?”

Fíli nodded, “I’ll send a raven as soon as we’re done here.”

A short while later the dwarves emerged from the elf king’s tent to return to the Mountain with the grim news. They hadn’t gotten more than a few steps when they heard Gandalf calling, “Fíli!”

They stopped and turned to see the wizard quickly approaching them with his long strides. “A word alone, my young friend,” he said briskly.

The blond prince motioned the others to go ahead. “What is it that you want of me, Gandalf?”

The wizard gazed at him, warmth and sympathy in his eyes. “King Thranduil told me what you have done, Fíli.” He grasped dwarf prince’s arm lightly, “It was a good thing you did, my lad; a good thing, a brave thing, and a wise thing. You took upon yourself a burden that should not have been asked of you so soon, and you have served your people well. I am very proud of you.”

Fíli gently disengaged his arm from Gandalf’s grip, his face bleak. “Thank you for your praise, Gandalf, but I hope you understand why I do not value it as I once would have. I would trade it in a heartbeat if it meant I could regain my uncle’s love.”

Gandalf shook his head sadly and watched him join the others as they made their way back to the Lonely Mountain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili agrees to release Thorin from captivity, but it does not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little on the short side, sorry for that, but it looked like putting the whole rest of the story in one chapter would be too long, so I decided to split it. (Not to mention, I can get something out faster this way!)
> 
> I struggled a bit with how Thorin would react to being kept prisoner (other than 'not well at all') but in the end I decided that although time away from the gold horde mellowed him somewhat, he's not back to his old self yet. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Fili paced anxiously as the rest of the Company gathered, his eyes everywhere but on the door to Thorin's makeshift prison. The blond looked up briefly to acknowledge the other dwarves when some of them paused to offer a smile or a comforting touch. When all their friends had assembled, Balin and Dwalin approached him.

"We're ready when you are, Fíli," Balin told him, his face drawn with concern.

Fíli glanced from one son of Fundin to another, "How is he?"

Dwalin shook his head, "He's calm enough at the moment, and he's vowed not to try to harm ye. I've told him that it was the entire Company's decision that you take over negotiations with the elf and Bard. But he's still angry, at you in particular."

"I expected nothing less," Fili murmured. He met the big dwarf's eyes and nodded toward the door, “It’s time.”

As Dwalin crossed to the door and began to turn the key, Fíli forced himself to release the breath he had been unconsciously holding and took another deep one, hoping to relax. There was a warm touch on his arm, "You did the right thing; never doubt that, _nadad_ ," Kíli whispered. Fíli leaned into the touch and smiled at his brother gratefully, wondering not for the first time if he could have weathered these last few days without Kíli's loving support.

Thorin emerged, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unchanged. He scanned the group of dwarves awaiting him and his gaze fell on his sister-sons. He stepped closer to Fíli, his face a mask—the blond knew that look, though thankfullyit had been seldom directed at him. Outwardly calm, the dark-haired dwarf eyes glittered in anger, a cold fury that could quickly erupt into a fiery rage.

After a hard look at his eldest nephew Thorin turned away, hands linked behind his back. "I am told by Balin, whom I am still willing to trust," he ground out, "that an army of orcs is fast approaching, and that we must make common cause with our enemies to fight them. Although I do not consider the source of this _rumor_ to be entirely reliable, I agree that it is prudent to act as if it is."

He lifted his chin, “And now all can see the wisdom in barricading the gate as I instructed; we can close it to the orc mobs outside and be safe within these walls.”

Fíli felt Kíli shift next to him and he knew his brother was as appalled as he was by the idea that they would abandon Bard and Thranduil’s people after having agreed to assist them in the fight against the orcs.

But before he could speak Balin interceded, “Aye, we could, but it would leave Dáin and his soldiers—our kinsmen that we called to aid us—to fight alone.”

Thorin waved his hand dismissively, “I will take that into account if and when these enemies appear.” His eyes narrowed, sweeping over the assembled dwarves once more. “Although I am inclined to be lenient in the face of this threat, do not think the actions of the past few days have been forgotten or forgiven. They have not, and there _will_ be a reckoning.”

The blond prince lifted his chin resolutely, meeting Thorin’s cold gaze. Although outwardly calm, his chest clenched painfully, it was not easy to dismiss the censure of the dwarf he had loved and striven to impress all his life.

His uncle turned away. “I would have two on watch at the gate. The others should return to the treasure room to continue the search for the Arkenstone.”

Dwalin huffed in surprise, “Thorin, if we’re to be fighting soon, the time would be better spent getting a bite and some rest before the battle.”

“If the past few days have given you the impression that my orders are open for debate, I can assure you they are not,” Thorin growled. “I am your king and you will obey me!”

The big dwarf opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again, clearly convinced it was pointless to argue further.

Before he consciously thought about the consequences, Fíli heard his own voice saying firmly, “No.”

Thorin whirled to face him, “ _What_?” he thundered. “You would defy me?”

Next to him, Kíli gasped in dismay. They had discussed whether to confess that they had given the Arkenstone to the elf king, and had tentatively decided to withhold that information until after the battle. Fíli knew that was the wisest course of action and it would be easy enough to back down now with a lie. But the blond found he couldn’t bear the idea of the entire company embroiled in another fruitless search for the stone.

“It is not my intention to defy you, Uncle,” Fíli replied calmly despite his wildly beating heart. “There is no reason to set everyone to searching again—the Arkenstone does not lie within the treasure vault.”

Kíli clutched his arm fiercely and hissed under his breath, “Fíli, no!”

“How do you know that?” the king demanded. “Speak!”

The blond met his brother’s anguished gaze and gave him an apologetic smile before replying. “Because, Thorin, I gave it to Thranduil as surety in lieu of the white gems he was seeking.”

A stunned silence filled the room. After a moment Balin sighed sadly, “Oh, lad, what have you done?”

The blond watched resignedly as the look in Thorin’s eyes changed from one of stunned disbelief to pure fury. “You traitorous dog!” he snarled, lunging at his nephew. “That my own kin, my named heir, would betray me so! I will kill you with my own hands for this treachery!”

Before Fíli could even consider whether to defend himself against Thorin’s attack Dwalin was between them, shielding Fíli from his furious uncle. But such was Thorin’s rage that other members of the Company were needed to subdue him. Once the king was restrained and had calmed somewhat the bald dwarf stepped back, panting, “Thorin, you’re my king and my loyalty to you has never wavered. But I’ll not allow you to kill your own flesh and blood, no matter what he’s done.”

Thorin turned toward the blond, anger still hot on his face, but when he spoke there was anguish in his voice as well and Fíli’s throat closed with unshed tears to hear it, “That you, my own sister-son, a son in all but name, would betray me thus! That you would find the stone and conceal it, allow me—the entire Company—to search in vain...”

“Umm, actually,” Bilbo interrupted before Thorin could continue. “In point of fact, Fíli did _not_ find the stone. I did.”

“Bilbo, no!” Fíli exclaimed; there was no reason for the hobbit to face Thorin’s wrath as well.

Bilbo shook his head, “I’ll not let you bear full responsibility for this when I was the one who found the stone in the first place.”

“It was _my_ decision to give it to the elf king!” Fíli retorted.

“Which you could not have done had I not taken it and concealed it to begin with,” Bilbo countered doggedly.

“Enough!” the king roared. “I should not be surprised by your guilt as well, halfling. I see now that I never had your loyalty, you have always been a pawn of accursed wizard.”

“I say, that’s not even remotely true!” Bilbo protested.

Thorin ignored him, his attention now focused on Kíli. “And what of you, nephew, where does your allegiance lie? With your King and liege lord, or with your traitorous brother?”

Kíli straightened next to Fíli and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He met Thorin’s eyes resolutely, “I belong with my brother.”

The blond saw their uncle flinch at this echo of his words on the Laketown pier, but the moment passed and Thorin’s jaw tightened. “So be it,” he said grimly. “I want these traitors out of my mountain, _now_! Drag them if you must!” He set off in the direction of the front gate without even a glance behind him.

“That won’t be necessary, we’ll go,” Fíli replied with all the dignity he could muster.

Dwalin laid a hand lightly on the arms of the two princes, escorting them to the gate with Bilbo and the rest of the Company trailing forlornly behind. “I’m...I’m sorry about this, lads,” Dwalin murmured, his voice breaking. “I don’t agree with what you did, but I know you meant well. Try to hold to hope that it’ll come out all right in the end.”

Kíli smiled at him sadly, “It’s all right, Dwalin. We understand, don’t we, Fíli?’ The blond nodded and they were silent for the rest of the journey to the gate.

When they arrived Thorin was waiting for them, pacing impatiently. “I am tempted to send you out in naught but your skins,” he ground out, “but for the sake of the love I hold for your mother I will allow you to take the armor and weapons in your possession.” Fíli sighed in relief; they had all raided the armories of Erebor once the dragon was dead, so the armor he was wearing was far superior to the oversize rags he had been given in Laketown. He still missed the twin blades confiscated in Mirkwood, but he and Kíli had both found adequate substitutes for their lost weapons as well.

“Make no mistake,” Thorin continued brusquely. “I am letting you depart with your lives, but should you show your faces in Erebor again you will be killed on sight.”

The dwarf king leaned over the stone parapet at the gate and called down to the elven watchers he knew must be present. “Thranduil! I would speak to the elf king now!”

After a few moments not only did Thranduil appear, but Bard and Gandalf as well. The wizard spoke first, “What is it that you wish to tell us, Thorin Oakenshield?”

“Ah yes, the wizard,” Thorin replied with false cheer. “I heard that you had returned. To pour more poison into the ears of my kinsman, no doubt.” His voice hardened, “Do not think that I am blind to your role in all of this. I wish to tell you, old meddler, that I am sending you all a gift in the form of my treacherous nephews and the misbegotten descendant of rats, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Oh, how rude!” the hobbit muttered under his breath.

“I have no doubt they will please you,” Thorin continued, “since they have already served you better and more faithfully than they ever served me.”

Balin huffed mournfully, “Oh, Thorin.”

Thranduil snorted in amusement, observing dryly, “I see that your ‘indisposition’ did not impart the wisdom your kinsmen hoped it might.”

The dwarf king did not respond, but instead began pushing his nephews and the hobbit roughly toward the rope that would allow them to descend from the gate. As Fili turned to climb down he saw the anguished faces of the Company watching them depart. Bofur had removed his hat and was twisting it in his hands, and Ori was weeping quietly, consoled by a grim-faced Dori.

“You are a fool, Thorin Oakenshield, if you cannot see that these three acted for the benefit of all—including yours!” His eyes turned sad and he shook his head, “You sit on that pile of gold, vowing to protect every coin, yet you cast away your greatest treasure with both hands. But you may be assured that others will value what you do not.”

Thorin stalked away from the gate without another word.

Gandalf sighed and turned to the newcomers, “I am sorry it has come to this, lads. I can only hope your uncle will see reason eventually.” He straightened and eyed them curiously, “What do you wish to do? I am afraid it is too late for you to leave before our enemies arrive.”

Kíli nudged his brother, “We’ll stay and fight, of course, won’t we, Fee?”

Fíli managed a smile; Kíli hadn't asked, but truly there was no need. “Aye. If anyone will have us.”

Bard shouldered his way to stand in front of them, “The Men of Laketown would be honored to have you fight at our sides. You have already proven yourself to be staunch friends.”

“Are you certain of this, Bard?” Fíli asked, warmth blossoming in his chest at the man’s trust. “You would take in two dishonored dwarves?”

The bowman snorted, “It should be me asking you if you’re willing. I have no illusions about either the size or fighting prowess of our forces. Two doughty, battle-tested dwarves would be a blessing.” He smiled wryly, “Besides, my children would never forgive me if I turned you away.”

Fíli glanced at his brother, who grinned broadly. He took Bard’s proffered hand and shook it heartily. “Then we accept. We would be proud to stand with the Men of Laketown once again.”  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Five Armies begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, I am bloody terrible at guessing how long a planned story sequence will be when it's all written out. I honestly thought that I could get the rest of the story into one chapter, but noooo. But I really, really do think the next chapter should do it. 
> 
> This is all BotFA set up and the first part of the battle itself. You will note that this is very, very different from what is shown in the movie. (No giant worms!) I actually found the movie battle to be very overblown and overly complicated, so I went back to the book as a template. The basic setup of the different allied armies is all from Tolkien, though I did steal a few bits from the movie, including the dwarf shield wall. I relied very heavily on Karen Wynn Fonstad's fantastic "Atlas of Middle Earth" which is an absolutely invaluable resource if you want to write about canon places and events. 
> 
> Honestly, I'm afraid this chapter suffers a little from 'middle part' syndrome, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Comments are greatly appreciated!

Fíli, Kíli, Bard and Bilbo gazed toward the northeast from their vantage point on the Lonely Mountain’s southeast spur. They were too dismayed to speak; an elven scout had first confirmed the size of the approaching orc army a few hours before, but seeing it with their own eyes was even more disheartening. Rank upon rank of orcs and wargs, stretching north as far as they could see, with an occasional troll looming over the smaller creatures. Above their heads swirled a black cloud that the sharp-eyed elves had identified as bats.

The only bright spot in an otherwise bleak picture was a much smaller group of figures rapidly nearing their position from the east, Dáin and his fighters. Bard shook his head in amazement, “I thought they could not possibly make it here before the orcs.”

Fíli smiled tightly, “At their previous pace they would not have. But they have been running hard since they received the message about the battle. Dáin knows the situation would be dire indeed if they were to be cut off from the rest of us by that horde,” he added, nodding toward the orc army in the distance.

“How long have they been running?” the Lakeman asked curiously.

Kíli glanced at the westering sun, “Since midday, most likely. Why?”

Bard snorted mirthlessly, “That’s a long run in full gear. Will they have the strength to fight at the end of it?”

The elder prince glanced at him in surprise, then chuckled, “They are _dwarves_ , my friend. We are not as fleet-footed as the elves, but tough and tireless nonetheless. They will fight, especially when faced by those orc scum.”

The bowman nodded, “Good. We will need every one of them.”

-ooo-

Bard stared down at the figure nearing them in astonishment, “Lord Dáin rides a…a _pig_?”

“A boar, specially trained for the purpose,” Fíli explained dryly. “Our cousin is a bit…odd.”

“That’s one word for it,” Kíli added with a snort of amusement.

Shaking his head in wonder, Bard asked the princes, “Do you wish me to stay, or would you prefer to speak to him in private?”

“Please stay,” the blond told him earnestly, “you lead our allies and Dáin should know who you are.”

Bard glanced up at him, brows quirked, “And will King Thranduil likewise be introduced?”

Kíli chortled, barely holding back his laughter. “Ah, no,” he replied, “I believe Dáin and Thranduil know each other from past meetings, and I doubt that renewing their acquaintance would benefit our alliance.”

Dáin had dismounted and was climbing toward their position on foot. Fíli and Kíli exchanged a nervous look; they did not know whether their cousin had learned of their banishment, but if he had they hoped that he would realize the absurdity of trying to enforce the ban on the eve of a battle that none might survive. Unfortunately, however, it was difficult to predict what their volatile cousin might do.

“Ho, lads!” Dáin called genially. “I would recognize you two anywhere, especially that blond mane of yours, cousin Fíli.” The two brothers relaxed; evidently he either he did not know of their banishment or had chosen not to press it. “Of course,” he continued, “You were both a mite smaller when last I saw you.” He gazed up at Kíli; Dáin was a large, strong dwarf but the brunet topped him in height by an inch or two. “Especially you, Kíli, you were barely to my knee.”

The redhead briefly embraced the dwarf princes in turn. Once Fíli got his breath back the replied, “Welcome, Cousin Dáin. As you can see, you find us in not the best of circumstances.”

“Aye, that’s clear enough,” Dáin chuckled. “I was expecting a good scrap with some poncey elves, but orcs are even more to my liking.”

“We have much to discuss,” Fíli told him, “but first let me make you known to Bard, of the line of Girion.” Bard stepped forward and bowed to the older dwarf. “The dwarves of Erebor are in his debt; he slew the dragon Smaug.”

Dáin’s eyes narrowed, “I could wish for a dwarf to have that honor, but I am wise enough to be grateful that it could be done at all.” He held out his hand to the man, “Well met, Bard Dragonslayer, that was a mighty deed. Girion was a good man, and a brave one, and it heartens me that his line has not been lost.”

“Thank you, Lord Dáin, for your gracious greeting as well as your assistance in this dark time,” Bard responded, taking Dáin’s hand and politely ignoring the original motive for Dain’s presence.

“And who is this little fellow?” Dain inquired, his eyes falling on Bilbo who started at the unexpected attention.

Fíli smiled, “This is the hobbit Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, our Company’s burglar. You would be hard-pressed to find a more able and stalwart companion. He has seen us through many trials.”

Bilbo reddened under Fíli’s praise, murmuring, “How’d you do, Lord Dáin?”

Dáin’s eyebrows rose, eloquently expressing his surprise at such an unprepossessing figure being described thusly. He bowed, “At your service, Master Baggins.” Glancing from the hobbit to the man and back again, he chuckled, “I can see there are some tales to be told when this is over. I shall look forward to it.”

Sensing that Dáin wished to speak to the brothers alone, Bard and Bilbo excused themselves.

As soon as the others were out of earshot the red-haired dwarf asked bluntly, “What of Thorin and the rest of your Company? Thorin still lives, does he not? I have not heard from him since I received the initial message.”

“Thorin is well,” Fíli told him blandly. “He and the others are seeing to the defense of the mountain in case you are forced to retreat there.”

“Hmph,” Dáin said thoughtfully. “Seems a bit risky to send both his heirs to the front line. He _is_ planning to join us, is he not?”

“Of course, when the time comes,” Fíli assured him. It took all his willpower not to glance at his brother—they hoped fervently that Thorin would not abandon Dáin, but they had no guarantees given their uncle’s mood the last time they saw him.

“He sent us first since we are more comfortable negotiating with the other races,” Kíli lied smoothly.

The older dwarf gazed at them for a moment, clearly not completely convinced by their explanations. Finally he nodded, “Very well. Now how do we plan to deal with all these bloody orcs?”

-ooo-

Dáin saw the sense in the battle plan devised among the allied leaders earlier, with a few modifications. Thranduil’s troops would be positioned along the southwestern spur of the mountain, the Iron Hill dwarves and the men of Laketown on the southeastern spur. This gave their fighters the advantage of the high ground and the ability to attack the orc army from both sides. At Dáin’s suggestion, most of his dwarves would form a shield wall on the level ground in front of Erebor’s gate to hold the enemy in place for the flanking attacks. All agreed that this was the best chance for them to prevail given that they were so greatly outnumbered.

The brothers had chosen a spot at the eastern end of the shield wall where the plain met the rocky slopes of the mountain, reasoning that some of the orcs would try to maneuver around the end of the dwarven line. With them were the men of Laketown arrayed along the mountain spur, ready to harass the flank of the enemy. Bilbo as well; the hobbit had stubbornly refused to leave the battlefield despite Bard’s offer for him to shelter among Laketown’s non-combatants. The dwarf brothers had finally agreed to his presence, (much to Gandalf’s irritation) after wresting promises from the burglar that he would try to stay out of the thick of the fighting and use his magic ring if he could not.

Fíli held his breath as the advancing orc line struck the dwarven shield wall with a crash. Dáin’s men held fast, and the casualties piled up quickly on the enemy side, further impeding their progress. The blond watch his kinsmen with pride in their skill and strength, but all too soon the orcs thwarted by the dwarf shields and spears surged toward the ends of the line looking for an easier route. He met them with a cry, slashing fiercely, anchoring the line of Lakemen to the shield wall. Kíli was a few paces behind him, steadying the Esgaroth archers as they raked the orc ranks stalled in their advance. In the distance across the battlefield Fíli could see the Mirkwood archers doing the same; their massed fire spreading death and ruin into the orc ranks.

Fortunately, the press of the enemy against Fíli’s position was not so constant that he was unable to keep track of the overall progress of the battle. When he spotted a troll lumbering toward the dwarf shield line, a quick signal to his brother had the Laketown archers targeting the beast, which fell before reaching the dwarf line. Bard’s men at first had been wary of the two dwarves, but that caution quickly disappeared when they saw how quickly the enemy fell in their presence.

The blond dropped back from the battle line to catch his breath, all the while watching Dáin’s men admiringly. Their training and discipline was impressive; wounded dwarves could be replaced on the front line quickly and efficiently, and all the shield bearers were substituted regularly to give them a chance to rest.

An arm slid around his shoulders and Kíli said warmly, “I thought I’d join you, _nadad_.”

Fíli looked at his brother inquiringly, “Don’t the archers need you, Kíli?”

The brunet made a face, “I’m almost out of arrows, and the ones the Lakemen use are too long for my bow. I thought I’d try some sword work instead,” he grinned.

“You’re more than welcome, _nadadith_ ,” Fíli assured him with a smile. As they readied themselves to join the line again the blond murmured, “The battle plan is working admirably so far.” His eyes were drawn to the ranks of orcs still filling the plain in front of Erebor.

“But there’s just so bloody _many_ of them,” Kíli added, finishing his brother’s thought. It was true; attrition was much slower among the allied fighters, but it was constant. Despite the long hours of fighting, some troops on the enemy side had yet to see combat. As inexperienced as the two young dwarves were with this kind of conflict, it was clear this was to be a battle of endurance.

Suddenly, above the din of battle cries of alarm could be heard; in Westron and Khuzdul both, behind the dwarven shield line. The brothers could plainly see an increase in activity there, but not its cause. They exchanged an uneasy glance and Kíli bit his lip pensively, declaring, “We need to know what’s happening. I’ll go.”

Before Fíli could respond they were startled by Bilbo’s voice. “No, no, Kíli, you’re needed here. I’ll go.”

The older prince had all but forgotten Bilbo’s presence, but smiled at him gratefully, “Could you, Bilbo? But…just be very careful.”

“And use my ring if necessary,” Bilbo added with a wry smile. “Yes, yes, I know. I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Kíli and Fíli returned to the fight but they could see that whatever had caused the disruption was taking its toll on the dwarf defenses.

Finally Bilbo returned, winded and grim, “It’s…it’s bad, I’m afraid. Orcs have found a path over the mountain spurs and are attacking the rear of the dwarf line. On Thranduil’s side as well. Dáin is regrouping, but…”

Fíli swore, and felt the first tendrils of despair creep into his heart. They were barely holding on as it was, how could they possibly hope to prevail while being attacked from both sides? He swiped his hand over his brow, “Mahal, Kíli, Dáin will need us.” The two princes had intentionally positioned themselves far away from the dwarf lord, hoping to avoid awkward questions about Thorin’s continuing absence from the field.

But they both knew where their duty lay; Kíli heaved a deep sigh before nodding reluctant agreement. At that moment Bard joined them, anxiety marring his handsome features. They quickly explained what they had learned and his frown deepened, clearly aware how precarious their position had become.

Just as the brothers were about to tell Bard of their intention to join Dáin, the long, echoing note of a horn rang off the stone walls near Erebor’s front gate. The rubble that the Company had laboriously stacked to form a barricade spilled outward as they watched in surprise. Figures emerged from the now open gate, led by the unmistakable shape of Thorin, King Under the Mountain.

Kíli grinned gleefully, tugging excitedly on his brother’s arm. “See, I told you he wouldn’t abandon our kin!”

“I couldn’t be more glad you were right,” Fíli chuckled, feeling as if a great weight had lifted from his heart.

A great roar went up among Dáin’s men, crying, ‘Thorin Oakenshield’, and ‘King Under the Mountain!’ and the brothers’ hearts swelled with pride to see Thorin leading the Company to the front line. The dwarves on the shield wall turned neatly, shields raised in salute, to let the newcomers through. Their friends crashed into the enemy line, the momentum the orcs had gained with their surprise attack gone in an instant.

The younger prince sighed as he watched them, and his brother, understanding with no words needed, draped an arm around his shoulder. “I know, Kee. I wish we could be with them, too.” As one they turned to join the battle once again.

-ooo-

For a while Thorin’s charge seemed to have turned the tide of battle, the orc advance reversed by the fierce attack. But too soon the allies began feel the weight of the overwhelming orc numbers once again. The pressure against their position began to grow steadily stronger, until Bard, whose height allowed him to see more of the battlefield, brought their attention to an even more unwelcome sight: a fresh wave of orcs let by none other than the massive figure of Azog, riding his white warg. They were heading right toward the center of the line where Thorin and the Company were fighting.

“Mahal save us,” Fíli breathed, glancing over to meet Kíli anxious eyes. But he had no time to say more, for a new group of orcs threw themselves against the Lakemen and it was all the two dwarves could do to hold their position.

Sometime later the older prince fell back to take a drink from his waterskin and catch his breath, one eye on Kíli in case his brother needed assistance. Just about to rejoin the fighting, he was startled by the feeling of something passing close over his head. He ducked and swore, looking up to see a large raven landing on the ground in front of him.

“Kíli!” he called. “A raven!” A quick glance told him that there was nothing attached to the bird’s leg as would be the case for a written message, so he addressed the raven as he had been taught, asking calmly, “Do you have a message for us, my friend?”

The raven took flight, cawing in agitation. At first the blond thought it might fly away, but at that moment Kíli approached, and to Fíli’s surprise (and the younger dwarf’s alarm) it promptly landed on the brunet’s shoulder. “Fíli,” he whispered, eyes wide, “what does it want?”

“I…I don’t know,” Fíli began, only to be interrupted by an impatient squawk.

“King. Hurt,” the bird croaked.

Kíli jumped at the unexpected sound near his ear, causing the raven to dig its talons into his shoulder to keep from being dislodged. “King,” the bird repeated, this time grabbing a lock of the brunet’s hair and tugging roughly.

“Ow! Stupid bird!” Kíli cried, swatting at the raven.

“Kíli, Kíli, it must mean…” his brother began excitedly.

“Mountain. King Hurt,” the bird cried, for all the world sounding impatient and annoyed at their slowness.

The brothers’ eyes met, “Thorin!”

“Raven, can you take us to the King?” Fíli asked, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

The bird leapt from Kíli’s shoulder cawing loudly, and took off westward, toward the center of the battlefield where Thorin had last been seen.

Alerted by the excitement, Bard strode up to them, “What is it? Do you have news?”

“Thorin is injured,” Fíli told him gravely, “the raven will lead us to him.”

The bowman stared at them in surprise, “You would aid him after he banished you?”

“He is our king and our kin, we must go to him,” the blond replied, his voice soft but resolute.

Bard opened his mouth to argue, but instead shook his head resignedly. “Go then, we will hold here.”

The dwarves clasped his arm in turn, and then moved to follow the bird, which was circling impatiently overhead. Their eyes and hearts focused on what lay ahead, neither brother heard the soft sound of bare feet behind them as they ran. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili face Azog in a desperate struggle to save their own lives as well as Thorin's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken a bit longer than I expected, but the good news is that the story will definitely be six chapters long; the last chapter is all but written and will be posted soon. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my 're-do' of the fight with Azog, I went through many possible scenarios until I found one that seemed just right. Let me know what you think!

Fíli and Kíli pressed forward, and whether by luck or some strange instinct of the raven, the bird led them behind the dwarf line, away from the fiercest fighting. Still, they were not able to pass completely unimpeded; there were pockets of orcs that had broken through and were attacking the rear of the line. More than once the brothers had to pause to aid a beleaguered ally before running on.

As they made their way to Thorin, Fíli couldn’t help but wonder how their uncle had come to need their assistance. Surely the others in the Company and Dáin’s men would do their utmost to protect their king—Dwalin in particular would never willingly leave Thorin’s side. But soon it became apparent what had happened when they began to see groups of dwarf warriors surrounded by the enemy, members of the Company among them. The King’s bold charge had driven a wedge into the enemy line, and at some point—perhaps when Azog had counter-attacked—their momentum stalled and the dwarves were encircled. Kíli’s gasp of dismay caught his attention, and the brunet pointed to Dwalin, fighting ferociously not far from them. The big dwarf was standing protectively over a prone figure, but they could not tell who it was. Fíli’s fists clenched involuntarily at the sight, wishing they could go to his aid but knowing they could not spare the time.

The raven cawed raucously and began circling overhead; a few more paces and they were greeted by a horrifying sight: some yards away the pale orc stood, towering over the other combatants on the field. At his feet was the stiff body of his white warg, hewn and broken. The hook in Azog’s severed left arm had been replaced by a wickedly curved blade, and in his right…in his right hand dangled the battered and bloody form of Thorin, King Under the Mountain.

A whimper left Fíli’s lips, horror and grief mingled; were they too late? But in the next moment his resolve returned; whether Thorin was living or dead they could not leave him in the hands of that monster. He started forward, his face grim, only to have Kíli catch his arm.

“Wait, _nadad_ ,” his brother hissed, “he has not seen us yet.” When the brunet reached for his bow and swiftly fitted an arrow to it, he understood. If they were to approach Azog on foot the orc would have time enough to impale their uncle.

Fíli met Kíli’s eyes and nodded. “Go,” he whispered.

Kíli took a deep breath and sighted the arrow, letting it go with no hesitation. It was a difficult shot; Azog was facing partially away from them so a lethal neck or eye shot was almost impossible. But some instinct must have warned the pale orc to their presence—he turned at the last moment and the arrow struck his right shoulder with a meaty ‘thunk’. Whatever Kíli’s original intent, Fili had no complaint about the result; Azog roared in pain and fury, and promptly dropped Thorin to the churned earth.

“Well done, _nadadith_ ,” Fíli cried as he ran forward toward Thorin, his brother close behind. The blond held his breath as he neared his fallen uncle, praying that he was still alive. His heart soared when he saw Thorin move; he lived, though it was apparent that his wounds were quite grave. His armor was rent and bloody; worse, his left arm was crushed almost beyond recognition. Thorin turned his head to watch them arrive, and the look on his face made the blond’s heart clench. It was not the disdain his nephews had seen in his eyes when they had been ejected from Erebor, but rather abject fear and despair.

“No!” Thorin cried, his voice raw with anguish. “Fíli, Kíli, save yourselves—run!” As much as it broke Fíli’s heart to see their uncle so distraught, he was thrilled to hear his words. It seemed that he had come to himself and had somehow thrown off the gold sickness.

“We would never abandon you, Uncle,” Kili exclaimed defiantly as they took their places flanking the injured dwarf.

“Oh, lads…” Thorin gasped.

Before he could continue he was interrupted by a rusty chuckle. “Touching,” Azog sneered. They looked up to see that the orc had removed the arrow, and although blood was flowing freely down his chest it did not appear to have been as debilitating as they could wish. “I should have known that taking Oakenshield would bring the rest of his filthy line to me.”

“You’ll not touch him again, beast,” Fíli said furiously.

The pale orc’s answer was a swift slash with his sword arm that the two princes caught on their blades. The blond swore under his breath; even wounded Azog was fast and brutally strong.

Before the two princes could do more than push back his blade the giant orc countered—in their worry over Thorin they had not noticed the huge mace chained to his right wrist and now they paid the price. It took but a moment for him to grasp the handle and swing the mace, dropping both dwarves to the hard ground.

Fíli’s vision dimmed, blinded by pain. He could feel that something was seriously wrong with his right arm and there was a stabbing pain in his head from where it had struck a rock when he fell. An agonized cry from Kíli told him that his brother was likely also injured. Terrified that they were both at Azog’s mercy, he forced his eyes open with difficulty.

“Saved me the trouble of hunting you down,” the big orc growled.

Without thinking Fíli moved his right arm to reach for his sword, but the pain was so intense that he had to fight not to pass out. He clutched his injured arm to his chest, and groped for a weapon with his left hand—his sword must be nearby since he had dropped it when he fell.

“Which one should I kill first?” Azog mused, clearly delighting in the situation. He bent over Kíli, pressing his sword arm to the brunet’s throat. “This one will do; I hear he has already cheated death once.”

“Kíli!” his brother cried frantically. Fíli’s fingers touched the hilt of his sword, but before he could do more that grasp it his attention was caught by unexpected movement behind Azog’s towering form. The blond’s eyes widened at the sight of the immense brown-furred creature looming over the orc. At first glance Fíli thought it might be warg, but was larger and bulkier than any warg, and it was standing on its hind legs. It could only be…a thunderous roar interrupted his thoughts and the huge bear swiped one mighty paw across Azog’s exposed back. Completely surprised by the skinchanger’s approach, the big orc howled in shock and pain as he was sent sprawling, bloody furrows torn down his back.

Unable to believe their good fortune, Fíli stood with some difficulty and stumbled over to fall on his knees between Kíli and Thorin. “Nadad!” he cried, quickly scanning his brother’s body. He winced at the sight of the brunet’s right leg twisted unnaturally at the knee, but otherwise Kíli’s wounds seemed superficial.

“I’m alright, Fee,” the brunet gasped, his face pale. “My leg hurts like the Maker’s forge but I’m not bleeding. See to Thorin!”

Fíli did so, and sucked in his breath in dismay at the sight of his uncle. On his right side his armor was torn and bloodied, seemingly by warg teeth, but worse, his left arm was a crushed and gory mess, with the blood seeping steadily from it forming a crimson pool under this body. It was clear that the older dwarf needed aid, and soon, if he was to survive, but between Fíli’s arm and Kíli’s leg there was no way they could carry him from the field without assistance.

After Beorn had struck Azog he surveyed the battlefield for a moment before turning back toward the big orc who was laying a few paces away. “Beorn!” Fíli called. “Please help us!”

The skinchanger’s massive head swung around with a growl. At first the older prince feared that he might mistake them for enemies, but when their eyes met Fíli recognized the man’s mind under the bear’s skin.

“Beorn, Thorin is terribly wounded; you must get him to safety!” Fíli pleaded.

The bear man gazed at Thorin appraisingly for a moment before nodding his shaggy head. Ambling over to the dwarf king, he picked up the still form in one giant paw with surprising gentleness. He turned and made his way toward the rear, occasionally pausing to swat orcs who dared venture too close.

“Fíli!” his brother cried, a note of panic in his voice.

To Fíli’s horror, Azog was standing and approaching them with heavy steps.

“You robbed me of my prize, but _you_ will not escape!” the big orc ground out. The older prince clutched his sword tighter; Azog was noticeably weakened by Beorn’s blow, his approach slow and halting. Weakened, but more than strong enough to finish them both in their injured state, the blond knew.

After insuring that Kíli was still armed, Fíli braced himself for the pale orc’s attack, hoping that he could kill Azog before he reached his brother. With a roar the orc raised his sword arm to strike, but suddenly, out of nowhere there was a flash of light and short blade, glowing blue in dimness, embedded itself in Azog’s side.

With a howl of rage and pain, the big orc swung his arm toward the source of the attack, striking something unseen that made a small noise of surprise.

Blessing the hobbit’s bravery and praying that Bilbo wasn’t too badly injured, the blond prince strode forward. Fearing that he would not get another chance he was determined to make his blow count. Azog swung his sword erratically, frantically trying to remove the hobbit’s blade from his side. Fíli ducked a wild swing and stepped in under the orc’s guard, driving his sword into Azog’s throat with all his strength.

The pale orc’s eyes bulged in shock for a moment before the prince pulled his sword away. Black blood fountained from his throat and Fíli was just able to stagger aside before Azog’s body fell heavily to the earth.

His knees no longer able to support his weight, Fíli dropped next to his brother, who immediately caught him in a joyful embrace. “You did it, Fee!” Kíli cried, tears streaming down his face.

Fíli smiled wearily into his brother’s hair. “ _We_ did it, _nadadith_ ; you, me, and Bilbo.”

As if conjured by his words, the hobbit’s bruised and dirty face appeared above them. “Lads, look!” he cried, awe and wonder in his voice. “It’s the eagles—the eagles have come!”

Fíli fell onto his back, overjoyed to be lying down again. He looked toward the sky to see huge shapes passing overhead, swift and graceful. Relief overwhelmed him and his eyes dropped shut of their own accord. The last thing he heard was Bilbo’s voice, crying, “Hold on, lads, help is coming!” before the darkness took him.

-ooo-

Fiery pain in Fíli’s arm roused him as he felt himself lifted from the ground. He cried out, struggling feebly against whomever was holding him. “Shssh, lad, lie still, I’ll be as gentle as I can,” a familiar voice said soothingly.

The prince finally realized he was being carried, and he cracked his eyes open cautiously. “Dwalin?” he murmured when the bald dwarf’s bearded face came into view.

“Aye. I’ll have you to the healers in no time, Fíli.”

Questions crowded his mind, and he fought against the throbbing in his arm and his pounding head to get them out. “We won?” he rasped. “Where is Kíli? And Thorin?”

“A lot of questions for a lad that’s got a knot on his head the size o’ my fist,” Dwalin chuckled. “We won, right enough. What with Beorn and the eagles, and Azog dying thanks to you and your brother, most of the fight went out of Azog’s army. It’s all mopping up now.”

“Bilbo too,” Fíli corrected, “he helped kill Azog.”

“Did he now? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me after all he’s done. He’s fine, by the way, just knocked about a bit. Kíli will be fine, too; Gloin’s right behind me with him. Though he won’t be walking on that leg anytime soon. The rest of the Company’s well, too, banged up, but they’ll heal.”

“Kíli?” the blond cried eagerly, attempting to turn in Dwalin’s arms to catch a glimpse of his brother.

“Oi! None of that, lad, you’ll hurt yourself,” the big dwarf admonished.

Sure enough, the pounding in his head increased and he felt a surge of nausea wash over him. “Dwalin, I’m going to…” He leaned over and emptied the contents of his stomach—thankfully little after a long day’s fighting—onto the ground in front of Dwalin.

If anything, the throbbing in his head worsened, and he sank back into the bald dwarf’s grasp with new determination to lie as still as possible. Clutching his head with his good hand, he whispered, “Sorry, Dwalin.”

“It’s no matter,” the big dwarf replied calmly. “A little spew on my boots is a small price to pay to see you safe. You and your brother gave us quite a turn when we found you and Kíli lying so still next to that white beast’s corpse. But you just rest now.”

Fíli struggled against sleep; it had not escaped him that Dwalin had left one question unanswered. “Thorin?” he asked plaintively, hoping desperately that their struggle to save him had not been in vain.

There was a long pause and the older dwarf sighed before replying, “He’s in a bad way, Fíli, though there’s still hope he’ll pull through.”

While the blond’s rational mind told him that was all that could be expected given the severity of his wounds, his heart ached painfully at the thought that their uncle could still perish. Or maybe that was his head aching; it was so hard to tell when he was so very, very tired.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili awaken after the battle and face a new challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, it's finally done! And I thought it was going to be just a couple of chapters longer than the original one-shot, ha!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the resolution, as promised, it's happy ending time!
> 
> Note: Tauriel has a small part in this chapter; I felt it made sense to include her given this is a movieverse fic. But no romantic relationship is implied, so it should safe for the Killiel averse.

When next Fíli roused, it was to the murmur of soft voices. He was warm and lying on something surprisingly soft and comfortable. The throbbing pain in his head and arm, though still present, seemed dim and far away. He concentrated on the voices and willed his heavy eyes to open. One voice he knew immediately; it was Kíli, and he felt a surge of joy at the sound. The second voice was high and musical—it sounded vaguely familiar, but his foggy mind refused to place it. When Fíli was finally able to pry his gummy eyes open he was greeted by the welcome sight of Kíli’s shaggy mop on the cot next to his. In a chair on the far side of Kíli sat the red-haired elf maid who had saved his brother’s life in Laketown.

He was startled from his observation by a third voice on his other side—the hobbit’s light tenor. “Ah, look who’s decided to join us!” Bilbo said cheerfully.

Kíli’s head whipped around and his eyes widened with joy when they alighted on his brother’s face. “You’re awake, _nadad_ , finally!” he cried, all but lunging across the intervening space to wrap an arm around Fíli. Then he winced and swore, exclaiming, “Mahal, that hurts! I keep forgetting about my damned leg.”

Fíli could see that his right leg was splinted and wrapped tightly; Bilbo bustled around to help the brunet lie flat again, tutting at Kíli’s impulsiveness. The younger dwarf grinned, “Sorry, it doesn’t hurt much unless I move it, so I keep forgetting.” His eyes searched his brother’s face anxiously, “How are you, Fíli? Are you in a lot of pain?”

The blond reached over with his uninjured arm to grasp his brother’s hand. He smiled reassuringly, “Not too bad, _nadadith_. Much better than I was. You?”

Kíli squeezed his hand, “Nothing much wrong, just this blasted leg. Óin says I’ll likely be able to predict the weather someday, so that’ll be handy,” he added cheekily. He glanced over to the elf maid by his bed. “I’ve been told that Tauriel here killed Bolg—with some help from that blond elf prince,” he added hastily when the redhead seemed about to protest.

Tauriel smiled over at Fíli. “I am pleased to see that you both are well, though I note that your brother managed to injure the same leg _again_ ,” she noted with a wry smile.

“What can I say, I’m clever like that,” the brunet grinned.

The elf rolled her eyes at his antics and stood, “I must go. King Thranduil wishes to have words with me concerning my recent actions, and I fear he is not pleased.”

As she passed near Fíli’s cot, he lightly touched her arm. “I hope it goes well with your king, but remember that you will always have my personal thanks for what you have done to save my idiotic brother.”

“Hey!” Kíli protested.

Tauriel smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, “It was my pleasure.” She glanced sidelong at the brunet, “But now I must leave him in your capable hands.”

“I’m _right here_ , you know,” Kíli grumbled.

The elf just chuckled and waved, leaving the brothers alone with Bilbo.

“I…I didn’t want to ask in front of Tauriel,” Fíli murmured, “but what of Thorin?”

Kíli and Bilbo exchanged a glance before the hobbit replied, “Óin came to check on you a short while ago. All he would say when we asked is that your uncle still lives, though he is gravely injured.”

“Does Óin expect him to recover?” the blond asked anxiously.

Kíli looked disgruntled, “He just mumbled something about ‘stubborn dwarves’ and refused to say anything else.”

His brother managed a wan smile, “We have to keep our hopes up, Kee. I think they would tell us immediately if something were to happen.”

“Well, they’d tell _you_ for certain,” Kíli replied earnestly. “You know what it would mean.”

Fíli did know, as little as he liked to think about. If Thorin didn’t survive the crown of Erebor might very well come to _him_ , and the blond prince did not feel in the least prepared for such a weighty responsibility. Kíli knew this as well, despite the fact that he had always declared his certainty that his brother would make a fine king. “We were banished, remember?” he said tightly. “And it won’t come to that. It can’t,” Fíli added, his voice shaking slightly.

Kíli grasped his hand and squeezed it sympathetically. “Fee...” he began.

Whatever he was planning to say was interrupted by a loud voice just outside their tent. Óin’s deafness made it difficult for the old healer to judge his own volume, so none of them were surprised when they recognized one of the voices as his. “It is too soon, I tell you!” he exclaimed. “The lads are still too badly injured to be traipsing around the camp.”

Another voice replied, one they recognized as Balin’s, though they could hear little of what he said. He must have admonished Óin to speak more quietly, for the healer moderated his tone, though it was still audible. He harrumped at Balin’s response, “I still say it’s too soon. Besides, you know _why_ he wants to see them. I’m astonished you wish to indulge him!”

Balin was clearly getting exasperated; they could hear his answer. “Because I fear they are the only ones who can dissuade him from this madness!”

The three listening inside the tent exchanged looks of confusion and alarm, and watched in consternation as the two elderly dwarves entered the tent.

Balin smiled at them as he came into view, followed by a still-disgruntled Óin. “Ah, lads!” the old advisor said happily. “I am pleased that you are up and about.”

Not wanting them to be thought of as eavesdroppers, Fíli replied, “Thank you, Balin. You...you should know that we heard part of your discussion with Óin. Can you tell us what is going on and what you need of us?”

The elderly dwarf’s smile faded a bit and he claimed the chair recently vacated by Tauriel. He sighed and passed a hand over his face, “I am sorry to ask this so soon, but Thorin would like to speak to you. All three of you.” he added with a glance toward Bilbo.

“Really?” Bilbo squeaked in surprise. “But...but we were all banished. On pain of death!”

“No longer,” Balin replied, waving a hand. “Thorin’s first act upon awakening after the skinchanger brought him in from the field was to rescind the banishment. He...he feels great remorse for having treated you as he did, and would like to make amends.”

“Because we fought for him?” Kíli asked, his voice tight.

“Oh my, no, before that. Mahal be praised, he was able to shake off the gold sickness before he led us into battle. I think it is safe to say that seeing you all fight so valiantly to protect him only increased his determination to set things right.”

Fíli’s heart swelled with hope—could it be that their beloved uncle had returned? “Of course we will speak to him, Balin! But Kíli cannot walk at all and I’m afraid I’ll be rather unsteady on my feet as well.”

Balin smiled, “Thank you, lads. I knew I could count on you. Be assured that you will get all the assistance you need.” He turned to Óin, “My friend, please escort Master Baggins to Thorin’s tent. I think it is best he speak to the king first. And ask my brother to join us; he will need to carry Kíli to Thorin.”

The princes smiled encouragingly at Bilbo, who was clearly a little nervous, as he followed the healer out of the tent.

As soon as they had passed out of earshot, Fíli asked urgently, “Balin, why is it so important that we see Thorin now? Óin argued strongly against it.”

The white-haired dwarf took a deep breath before replying. “There’s something else you two must know. Thorin has confirmed you both as his heirs, and he has persuaded Dáin to support your claim to the throne of Erebor. I...I am afraid your uncle wishes to see you to say his farewells.”

“What?” Kíli cried. “He’s going to die?” A cold ball of dread settled in Fíli’s gut and he stared at Balin in dismay.

Balin huffed in frustration. “It’s his arm, you see. It cannot be saved; it was too badly damaged in his fight with Azog and his warg. According to Óin, he has a fair chance of recovery if he’ll allow it to be removed. But he’s being a stubborn fool and won’t give the healers permission to amputate.”

“But why?” Fíli asked plaintively. “Does he _want_ to die?”

“Although he has not said so, I believe he feels he must atone for his actions when in the thrall of the gold sickness, especially his treatment of you two. Thorin has decided he no longer deserves to be king, and that you, Fíli, should rule Erebor in his stead.”

For a moment, the blond felt as if all the air had been stolen from his lungs; he was finally able to gasp, “What? No! I...I am not ready! We must make him understand that he is wrong!”

Balin smiled gently at the young prince, “I believe you underestimate yourself, Fíli. You showed your true worth as a leader when you defied Thorin in his madness.” He fixed his gaze on the brothers in turn, “But I agree that we must make him see reason and understand that there is no need for him to sacrifice his life. That is why I wish for you to speak to him. He will not listen to any of the rest of us, that much is clear; perhaps he will listen to the sister-sons that he loves.” He shook his head, “Because one thing is certain, if his arm is not removed soon, he _will_ die.”

When Bilbo and Dwalin returned a short time later, the hobbit was red-eyed and overwrought from his conversation with Thorin. “Dwarves are the most stubborn and aggravating race in all of Arda, and that dwarf is the absolute _worst_ ,” he muttered, blowing his nose into a borrowed handkerchief. “I tried to talk some sense into him, but _ugh_!”

“Time for you lads to try,” Dwalin said gruffly. “Here, Kíli, put your arms around my neck and I’ll take you.”

The big dwarf settled the younger prince in his arms with as little jostling as possible, while Balin helped Fíli to his feet. Their progress was slow across the camp, and Fíli had to pause frequently when the movement made him too queasy. They saw several of the Company slumped wearily around a campfire a short distance away, and they cheered and waved to see the princes up and about. They did not stop, but Fíli promised himself that they would visit their friends as soon as possible once their urgent mission was done. They finally arrived at Thorin’s tent, and the Fundin brothers ushered them inside.

Thorin was alone in the tent, lying quietly, his left arm heavily bandaged and strapped to his side. His face was grim and sad, but it brightened when he saw who had entered. Balin and Dwalin helped the princes settle on cots that had been set up on either side of the king, clearly for that very purpose.

Balin gave Thorin a thoughtful look before saying, “Let us know when you are ready to leave, lads.”

Their uncle clasped each of their arms in turn with his uninjured one. “Fíli, Kíli, it is good of you to have come,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It would have been no more than I deserved if you had refused.”

Kíli’s face furrowed in dismay, “We would never do that, Uncle!”

“We would wish to be nowhere else,” Fíli assured him gently.

The dark-haired dwarf shook his head, “You are good lads, and always have been. I could not ask for better, more loving and loyal heirs.”

Fíli swallowed thickly, his eyes misting, “Uncle…”

Thorin held up a hand, “Let me have my say, I fear my time is brief.” He caught their eyes in turn. “I have spoken at length to Dáin and Balin; they know my wishes. The banishment is, of course, lifted.” He drew in a sharp breath, “It shames me to think that I acted as I did to you, said words to you and Bilbo that should never have been uttered. I would see you all honored as you should be, in hopes that in will in some small part atone for what I have done. Master Baggins is to leave with the undying gratitude of the Dwarves of Erebor, and his share of the gold, though he swears he does not need any treasure.

“You two have been reinstated as my heirs, and Dáin has vowed to see you crowned, Fíli, after I am gone.”

He reached up to pull the blond close enough for them to touch foreheads, “Fíli, you are kind and wise, strong and resolute; you will be a fine king, of this I am certain. And I know that you, Kíli,” he continued, clasping the brunet’s hand, “will ever be at his side, strengthening him with your love and loyalty. Together you will make Erebor great again, make it our _home_ again.

“All I ask is that when you think of me, you remember that I loved you both dearly, no matter how little I showed it at times. Remember that I loved you and could not be prouder of who you are and what you have become.”

“But Uncle, why do you speak as if you may die at any moment?” Fíli asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “According to Balin, the healers say you might well live if you allow them to amputate your arm!”

“Fíli…” Thorin began.

The older prince wiped his tears away and glared at his uncle, “You are wrong that I am ready to be king, Thorin, I am not! The thought of it terrifies me! I still have so much to learn from you!”

“And I’d be a _horrible_ crown prince,” Kíli added, sounding aggrieved. “It’ll be years before I’m half as good as Fíli is!”

“You don’t need me, lads,” Thorin said quietly. “Erebor doesn’t need a one-armed king who could fall prey to the gold sickness again. You two have proven yourselves to be stronger, _better_ than me. It’s best to let me go.”

“You don’t know that the gold will affect you again, Thorin,” the blond told him urgently. “Besides, I…I’ve thought about it. Remember, you said that there are vaults for the gold, and it was only at the end that great-grandfather had it moved so he could walk among the piles of treasure. We can lock it away again! It won’t make you sick if you stay away from it.”

“Fíli, you don’t know that,” Thorin murmured.

“I know it in my heart, Uncle,” Fíli said firmly. “And I know that Erebor needs you; your experience, your strength and wisdom. _We_ need you.”

“You are our _irakadad_ ,” Kíli whispered through his tears. “Who held us when we cried in the night and showed us how to be strong and honorable dwarrows. Please don’t leave us!”

“Oh, Kíli,” Thorin replied with a catch in his voice, wrapping his arm around the brunet and pulling him close.

“Thorin,” Fíli said, catching his uncle’s eyes, “I understand that you feel you have to atone for what you have done. But how can you, _truly_ , if you are not here to do so? Do you think Amad will forgive you for giving up and leaving before she has a chance to see you again? And what of the Company? They have all followed their king and served you loyally through all our perils; surely they deserve to see you take the throne of Erebor. _Stay_ , and make things right. _Stay_ , and be the king I know you can be!”

Thorin let out a long, shuddering breath before replying, “Fíli…I…I will consider it.” His voice gentled, “Now you two should go and rest. You still have your own healing to do.” He embraced his nephews in turn and then called for Balin.

Once the Fundin brothers had helped the princes out of the tent, the white-haired dwarf asked anxiously, “Were you able to talk sense into him?”

“I…I think so,” Fíli replied hesitantly. “We gave him something to ponder, at least. I suggest that you give him some time to himself, but then send in Óin to ask again about the amputation.”

“Thank Mahal,” Balin cried, “you two are miracle workers.”

-ooo-

Some months later Fíli and Kíli, well and hale again, stood at Thorin’s side as he was formally crowned Thorin II, King of Erebor. It was a proud and happy day, and the king wore his empty sleeve as a badge of honor. If any commented on the loss of the shield that gave him his name, or the arm that had once wielded it, he would smile and say that he now had a better shield in the persons of his strong and loyal heirs.

In the years that followed kingdom was rebuilt and restored to its former glory, and there was no whisper of the gold sickness returning. After a long and prosperous reign, Thorin fell alongside his ally, King Brand of Dale, during the Great War of the Ring, guarding the gates of Erebor from Sauron’s armies. He was deeply mourned and interred in splendor at the base of the mountain beside his forefathers. Fíli, his sister-son and heir, (soon to be dubbed Fíli the Golden, Lion of Erebor, much to his chagrin and his brother’s amusement) was crowned King with, as Thorin predicted, Kíli always at his side.

As for the Arkenstone; Thror’s ill-omened throne that had housed it was removed. After much thought the stone was mounted in a mithril cage and hung deep in the mountain where its light could shine over the tombs of the kings; the heart of Erebor once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translation:
> 
> irakadad = uncle (lit. 'side father')


End file.
